


Gently

by dysphorie



Series: 4/7 [1]
Category: Slipknot (Band)
Genre: Affection, Anal Fingering, Butt Plugs, Comfort, Crying, Dry Humping, Emotional Sex, Established Relationship, Feels, Fluff, Gentle, Grinding, Hotel Sex, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Kisses, Sleepy Sex, Sweet, aye that, big daft boys, but that wont stop them, groot is really tired, sex but not sex, sleepy, so is big mick, soft, you know that way when you're tired but horny as shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-24 06:45:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19718338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dysphorie/pseuds/dysphorie
Summary: It's one of those nights where the boys are just too tired. Then Jim has an idea. Then Mick has a better one.





	Gently

"I don't know about you but I. Am. Fucked. I could sleep for week." Mick groans as he flops down onto his front on the bed next to Jim, who smiles sleepily as he's jostled by Mick's bulk. It's their first chance to stay in a hotel in what feels like forever during a particularly punishing schedule, and the joy of a real mattress with eiderdown bedclothes is lulling him into a state of relaxation Jim hasn't felt in some time. He rolls over toward Mick, nose nuzzling at a curl of hair by his ear. His hair smells like shampoo under layers of product and sweat, and usually this is where Jim would suggest jumping in the shower together, but honestly he would probably drown if he dared go near water right now.

Mick turns his head from where he'd shoved his face into his pillow to look at Jim, returning the smile. It's warm and bright and makes Jim's heart flip a little. It only takes a tiny tilt of their chins to bring their lips together, and it's soft and full of sighs. A sluggish hand lifts to stroke Jim's face, a gesture he returns by slowly running a hand down Mick's back, kneading the muscled flesh as he goes. It's nice. Soothing. Both hands stop intermittently, though, too tired for any extended activity. It's frustrating but Jim contents himself with laying his palm at the small of Mick's back beneath his tshirt, thumb tracing lazy lines against the soft skin there. 

With a low whine Mick breaks the kiss, sounding mournful and pouty. "Are you as tired as I am?" he asks Jim, who can only answer with a yawn. Not just tired but _bone_ -tired. He's pretty sure he'd cry if anyone made him do anything right at this moment. Mick laughs at Jim's attempt at a reply, but there's definitely a look of disappointment in his eyes. Not disappointment in Jim, but the situation. Mick wants more, and Jim desperately wishes he could give him it. He really is just _far_ too tired for any sort of taxing activity though.

Still, the feeling of Mick's hand on his face and the warmth where his hand lays on Mick's back has a kind of slow heat running through Jim's veins, and the soft murmurs and slight fidgeting from Mick seem to confirm that so does he. And no wonder, it's been an age since they've even been able to just share a bed and kiss in peace never mind anything else.

A glimmer of an idea blooms in him. He leans in again, slots their lips together again, increases the pressure of his hand again, and kisses his way to Mick's ear.

"Let's get undressed, baby. Don't want to fall asleep in these uncomfortable clothes, do we?"

There's an audible hitch in Mick's breath. Jim knows very well how much Mick loves it when Jim calls him things like that, what it does to him; makes him feel small, something to be cosseted and protected. Jim's the only person who can do that. He might only have a few inches on Mick, but under Jim's lips and hands it might as well be a few feet. Jim's words are benign but the tone of his voice gives away his intentions, and it feels like it takes an eternity for all the layers to be stripped away; the shirts and t-shirts and jeans and boxers, limbs slow and heavy, but eventually they tumble down together again, facing each other on top of the covers. 

Gazing at Mick like he has a thousand times before, Jim starts to suddenly feel shy and nervous. They're in a soft nebulous bubble crafted from the conflict between exhaustion and desire, and it's making his head feel woolly but happy. Reaching out he gathers Mick against his chest, claiming his mouth again. They let a few long moments bleed away this way, doing nothing more than kissing. It reminds Jim of being a teenager, the evenings spent doing nothing but making out with whoever was bored enough to pay that much attention to him, when doing anything else was too scary or too conspicuous so they had to make do. 

He's not a teenager anymore though, and Mick isn't just some random he met at a party using him to pass the time, and he feels a slight shiver of power race through him as he rolls his hips forward. Mick jolts with a noise of surprise as their cocks rub together, but doesn't hesitate to return the action, and before long they're moaning quietly into each others mouths as they move in unison. Soon their precome makes the slide effortless, exactly what Jim had been looking for when he suggested they get undressed. He might not be able to fuck Mick tonight, or be fucked by him, but he can do this. Minimal effort, maximum payoff. It's lazy and unhurried, neither chasing an orgasm but just enjoying the comfort that touching and being touched in this way brings.

And comforting is _exactly_ what it is; He feels close to Mick, closer than he has in a while. It seems like they barely get a minute alone these days, always surrounded by so many people expecting so much of them. It's so nice to just be by themselves. Everything feels relaxed and hazy, quiet and soft. The tiny stuttered sounds Mick is making make Jim's brain feel fuzzy and compels him to pull Mick infinitesimally closer, his then hand sliding up to cup Mick's cheek and stroking the days stubble there, while Mick slips his hand further round Jim's back, stroking the smooth skin and pressing against him. It's then that Mick speeds things up, pushing forward to grind his pelvis harder against Jim, who can't help but respond in kind. It was inevitable; a little has never been enough for either of them where the other is concerned. 

It feels amazing, but all too soon their movements slow, just too too tired to maintain the heated pace. He hears a growl escape himself and it's echoed by Mick, their mutual frustration evident, and Mick dips his head, burrowing it between Jim's cheek and the pillow and moaning grumpily. Jim just pets his hair, agreeing with the sentiment. The _one_ _fucking time_ they actually have time to be close and a proper bed to enjoy, and they're both too weary to make the most of it. _Sod's law_. 

Jim's eyes are just starting to close completely, sleep tugging hard at his tired limbs, when Mick pulls back suddenly, a wicked gleam in his eyes. He begins to pull away, and Jim whines and tries to tug him closer again, missing the warmth of his body already, but Mick whispers that he'll be right back. Jim watches with puzzled curiosity as Mick rummages through his bag, unable to see clearly in the near pitch black of the room. It's not until Mick is sliding up against him again that he realises what he has in his hands, and honestly it just makes him more confused. He starts to ask but is quieted by Mick's lips, a brief kiss before he whispers, "Just trust me, baby...I know you're tired, but it'll be worth it, I promise", and takes hold of Jim's hand.

The cold drops of lube hitting his fingers startles him, but then Mick is hiking his thigh over Jim's hip and bringing his hand around to his ass, guiding Jim's slick fingers to his opening. He still isn't sure what's going on, because he's fairly certain that this isn't exactly all Mick has planned, but he's too out of sorts to care. Fingering your partner isn't exactly the most strenuous work, and Jim is glad of the chance to do it, tracing lazy circles around Mick's hole before dipping his finger inside. Mick twitches against him, nose scrunching up a bit but otherwise silent. The tight warmth locks around his digits as he works another finger in, and Jim doesn't think he'll ever not be entirely enchanted by how incredible it feels to be inside Mick's body. Be it his fingers or his tongue or his dick, it just always feels something like coming home. He keeps his movements slow, long deep thrusts where he nearly pulls out completely before sliding home again. 

He's just starting to wiggle in a third finger when Mick stops him, a little breathless as he assures him that that's enough. What it's enough for Jim doesn't have time to query, as Mick is shifting his thigh back down and slicking up his own fingers, whispering that it's Jim's turn as he shifts closer, draping himself over Jim as he palms his cheeks apart with his thumb. He no longer cares what Mick's gameplan is, now only able to concentrate on Mick's lips against his neck, the chill of the lube against his tender skin, and the feeling of Mick's fingers trailing against his perineum with the slightest pressure before rubbing against his entrance. He hisses the tiniest bit as his hole is breached, at the slight sting from being a bit out of practice. It's worth it though for the blissful relief that washes over him as Mick thrusts lazily in and out, adding another finger after a few minutes with very little pressure needed. Their skin is heated, sweat beginning to form between them, and again Jim finds himself barely concentrating on the fingers inside his body, just relishing the intimacy and closeness, the feel of Mick's skin against his where he's wrapped around him, cheek to cheek. Quite content to lie there and lose himself in the sensations building within him, he groans a little when Mick pulls out and away, the empty feeling unpleasant and making him crave more despite his fatigued state. He can still feel the heaviness in Mick's limbs, and hopes he has the energy left for whatever else he's planning.

When Mick reaches behind him for the other items he'd picked out of their bags, which Jim had completely forgotten about, awareness begins to dawn. Then Mick is petting him, kissing down his neck and making soothing noises, telling he that he's so good for Mick and that he's proud of Jim staying awake for him. Jim thinks he couldn't have fallen asleep during all this if he'd tried. There's almost no resistance when Mick guides the tip of the plug to his entrance and slides it in, every muscle in Jim's body lax and loose thanks to tiredness and Mick's ministrations. He can't help but jerk when Mick flicks the switch that makes the toy start buzzing gently, snug against his prostate, and the pleasure and relief it brings makes him exhale a loud breath coloured with a faint moan. The sound makes Mick hum low in his throat. There's a brief pause where he watches Mick lube up his own plug and reach behind himself, and now he understands why Mick didn't need the third finger; he's always preferred a tighter fit, finding the burn of the extra stretch satisfying. The look on his face, the flash of bliss that crosses it when he gets it in and turns it on makes Jim's cock throb. Then Mick is up against Jim again, splashing a drop of lube on his hand before tossing the bottle aside and giving them each a quick stroke and lining their cocks up again, bringing his lips to Jim's again. It takes Jim a few moments to get with the program, so so many differing sensations passing through his body making him shiver like static under Mick's hands. A few deep breaths and he calms himself down enough, clears his mind enough to join Mick in resuming their languorous thrusting. 

Gently, they move together so gently. The vibrating plugs do all the hard work for them, giving them that extra rush of pleasure and sensation without the need to rut fast and hard against one another. They can stick to their original sedate place, and stick to it they do. He can't lie, the heat inside him has loaned him an injection of energy. How long it'll last, he doesn't know, so he decides he'd better make the most of it. Jim rolls his tongue against Mick's with a savoured slowness, sometimes pulling back to alternate soft pecks and tiny nips. He feels dizzy, so comfortable and happy to just do this. How Mick came up with this he'll never know, but he's fucking glad he did.

Jim notes that he'll have to remember to do something _especially_ nice for Mick to say thank you.

Their hands rest on one anothers hips, fingers occasionally twitching involuntarily. Every noise one makes is swallowed by the other. Through hooded eyes Jim can just see Mick's face, see his lashes fluttering against the flush on his cheekbones, and with that he runs out of the brainpower to process how incredible this moment feels. His hips roll faithfully to meet Mick's again and again, the buzzing of the plug against that bundle of nerves making the simple, nearly effortless movement feel like the greatest fuck he's ever had. Firecracker-like shocks are running up his spine, trails of electricity shooting down his inner thighs, making him tremble harder and harder. Mick's hand shifts from his hip to palm the sweaty skin at the small of his back. He doesn't push, doesn't guide, just holds Jim close. Jim tightens his grip on Mick's hip, slightly convinced he may float away altogether if doesn't tether himself to the moment somehow.

The temporariness of this moment nags vaguely at the back of Jim's mind, anxiety threatening to divert his attention as he remembers things like early alarms and media appearances, late shows and long bus journeys. Even worse, the realisation that he has no real idea how long it'll be before they can be together like this again. His stomach roils and for a split second he's distracted, and his hips stutter and break their rhythm. Mick must be able to tell, must've noticed the way Jim's brow creased too as he presses gently against Jim's back, grinding harder against him, guiding him back to him with firm, slow strokes. 

Jim gasps, mind zeroing back in on the present. He strokes his hand up the length of Mick's body to cup his cheek, grounding himself, stealing his breath with a long deep kiss when he feels Mick lean into the touch with a soft whimper. For once his overactive brain lets him push the negative thoughts away. He doesn't need to worry about later. For now, all he needs is Mick and _now_.

He knows it's because they're both overtired and fraught with fatigue, but he feels overwhelmed with affection and emotion and can't help but register that not only can be feel tears pricking his eyes, but he's fairly certain he can see them beading at the corners of Mick's closed eyes too. Gently, gently they move together, the rest of the world falling away. Real life can wait, it's not important right now. Jim can't remember the last time he felt so pleasured from such simple actions, and it tells him something; they don't need to fuck each other to prove they care for one another. It doesn't always have to be hard and fast and passionate. Life can be slow, and soft, and quiet. Things can be like this.

All too soon though, Mick stiffens in Jim's grasp for a few seconds, and it takes Jim a moment to register the warmth covering his stomach, and he realises Mick's coming. Their mouths go slack against one another, and Mick's voice falters as he calls Jim's name in a strained whisper. _Oh_ , what that sound does to Jim. Every single time, it's like music to his ears. The coil of pleasure in his belly finally snaps, and he whines high in his throat and into Mick's mouth as he spills over them both, and their kisses grow frantic as they clutch at each other harder. They shudder together, not caring a bit about the mess on their bellies and tears tripping down their cheeks, too caught up in the joyful sensations coursing through their bodies. His orgasm fells him completely, and with that the last vestiges of energy are gone. 

Jim opens his eyes with what feels like a herculean effort when Mick's lips ghost across his own, murmuring sweet nothings against him. His mind is a blank slate, completely absent of any rational thought, but he mumbles Mick's name as the kisses bring him back down to earth. His limbs feel like wet newspaper and by the time they're finally sliding under the covers and into one another's arms, he can barely remember removing their plugs and cleaning themselves up. Now his head is pillowed against Mick's chest, Mick's hands are on his hip and in his hair, and finally, _finally_ they both give in to the peaceful, happy drowsiness, whispered words like " _I love you_ " on their lips.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published fic for this pairing. Not entirely certain if I'd write more, but I really enjoyed writing this one! If it's something you'd like to see more of, don't hesitate to let me know.


End file.
